


the long lost ghost

by StuckySituation



Series: Stripper!Steve AUs [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Amnesia, Amnesiac Bucky Barnes, Incompetent HYDRA, M/M, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, happy reunions, happy silly fluff times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-15 07:11:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18068930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StuckySituation/pseuds/StuckySituation
Summary: Based on Bottom Bucky Fest 2019 prompt:"Steve is a stripper, hired to work for Bucky's sister's bachelorette party. Bucky has to go pick him up. Bonus points for awkwardness.Double bonus points for naked awkwardness."...somehow this turned in my mind into a Modern!AU with a drunk HYDRA agent sending Winter Soldier on an escort mission, and Steve "Captain America" Rogers getting the shock of his life when his long lost fiancé isn't quite as dead as everyone thought.





	the long lost ghost

**Author's Note:**

> My deepest apologies for the prompter. I did claim your prompt with an intention to follow it to the letter, but... then this happened. I got few other fic ideas for your prompt, which were, er, more along the spirit of your prompt -- I'll see if I can get one of those written, at least as a drabble, and posted too during this week :P
> 
> TWs: Mild non-con body modification (literally just earrings; compared to Bucky's arm, I figure that's not bad, but better safe than sorry, and everyone knows to expect the arm but nothing else). Few sentences of light BDSM kink shaming from OC to OC during the first part.

 

 

 _“Lydia!_ You were supposed to go pick up the stripper!” Jenny hisses at her.

 

Lydia looks at the bottle in her hand. “Oops. Um. Can someone else go pick him up?”

 

 _“No,_ because you are the only one who needed to stay sober. Lydia, you had _one_ job. You _promised_ me. Agh, sometimes I hate you _so much.”_

 

Lydia stands up from the couch. Oh wow, her legs have turned to jelly. “I’m not that drunk. I can still go--”

 

 _“No!_ Sit down before you fall over. Oh gods. We’re in the middle of nowhere, there’s not even enough reception to call anyone for help. And even if I _could_ call someone, I don’t know _anyone_ who would not already be in some other Halloween party _and_ who would agree to drive a stripper back and forth from Brooklyn to _here.”_

 

If Lydia was any less drunk, she would know that what she does next is _a bad idea._

 

(It’s that sort of a Very Bad Idea that the historians will talk about for centuries, whenever they need to pull an example of a tiny moment changing the course of history, when they need to talk about butterfly effects and the power of one wrong person being in the wrong place, in the wrong time, thinking under the influence of alcohol that _‘Hey, this plan is awesome and I can totally get away with it’.)_

 

But she _is_ quite drunk, so instead of thinking things through for a second, Lydia smiles brightly and proudly at Jenny. “Stop pouting. I’ve got this.” She lowers her voice and wiggles her eyebrows: _“I know a guy.”_

 

Jenny rolls her eyes at her. “Well jeez, that’s great. But how are you going to contact him?”

 

Lydia tries to stand up again, but Jenny shoves her back to the couch.

 

“Stop trying to stand up! We don’t need you hitting your head and needing ER on top of everything.”

 

 _“Fiiine._ Just bring me my backpack, then.”

 

“What, is your miracle guy hiding in there?”

 

Despite the sass, Jenny brings her backpack, and Lydia pulls a nondescript small phone out of it.

 

“I said already, we have _no_ reception-”

 

“Shush. This is a special kind of phone. I can’t tell you more.” Lydia giggles. “It’s classified.”

 

Jenny rolls her eyes. “Stop trying to make everyone believe that you’re a government agent, moron. We all know you work at McDonald’s.”

 

“It’s my _cover story,”_ Lydia whispers dramatically.

 

“Obviously,” Jenny deadpans. “Now, are you trolling me about that phone and the guy? If so, god help you, I’m going to legit kill you.”

 

“No, just let me call him. He’s gonna do anything I ask. He’s my _slave.”_

 

“Oh my _god,_ Lydia, _shut up,_ I don’t want to know anything about any Fifty Shades of Grey shit. I don’t care who he is or how you know him, just _fix this_ and get that damn stripper here for Becca.”

 

Lydia giggles again and picks Soldier’s number in her contacts. “Don’t worry. I’m going to save this party.”

 

“Save it _from yourself,_ you mean. If you had just stayed sober…”

 

The call connects and Lydia makes _Shush!_ gestures at Jenny. “Heyyy Jeffy -- go prepare Soldier and get it on the phone for instructions. I’ve got a new urgent, _high priority_ mission--”

 

Jenny grimaces, puts her hands over her ears, hisses _“What did I say about not wanting to hear about your slave games?”,_ and then leaves Lydia on the phone to go help with the party decorations around the Barnes family’s hunting lodge, where Becca’s three day long bachelorette party slash Halloween getaway slash retro club weekend is in the full speed towards the kitschland.

  


\---

  


It’s Friday evening, and Steve is tired after the long week. His part-time job as an art teacher may be part-time in name, but it’s full-time exhausting because of the long commuting. (And because half of the students are enrolled in his classes by their parents and have no personal motivation to be there.)

 

In ideal world, he would pop open a beer to numb himself from the after effects of life and sit down to watch some mindless trash. But since the world is far from ideal, and his part-time job as teacher isn’t enough to pay his bills, he leaves the six-pack in his fridge alone and picks up a ginger ale. He’s expecting his ride to arrive in twenty minutes, and he’s professional enough to not drink alcohol before a show.

 

He pushes the fridge door close and, as if to put more salt in his exhausted wounds, his eyes drift to the photograph he keeps on the fridge door, carefully laminated and held by a dozen of magnets to prevent it from slipping down.

 

The photograph is from eight years ago. Steve’s Ma took it, six months before the cancer took her and eight months before Bucky disappeared on a classified special ops mission in Middle East. In it Steve and Bucky are standing in front of the gallery, two hours before Steve’s first official big art show.

 

Steve is smiling obliviously at the camera, his arm around Bucky’s shoulders, while Bucky is winking at Steve’s Ma. He has sneakily pulled a ring box halfway out of his pocket to show it off for her and the camera.

 

(In the end Steve was faster with his proposal. He asked Bucky dramatically right at the end of his gallery opening speech, telling the audience that none of his art would be there on show if not for the best person in his life enabling and encouraging his passion for the past decade.

 

Afterwards, Bucky complained about how he had wanted to wait until they were alone, to not make it all cheesy and public and possibly embarrassing if Steve decided to say no; _Steve_ answered that he knew how much Bucky loved being PDA smothered and that there _was no way_ Bucky was going to say no to him, so he decided to just impro it at the end of his opening speech. Bucky was not too offended that Steve thought him such a sure bet, since he could not deny either statement.

 

Steve’s Ma, on the other hand, gave a lot of good-natured ribbing to Steve afterwards for saying that Bucky was Steve’s best person and the enabler of his art. After all, _she_ had enabled Steve’s art obsession since Steve dipped his fat baby fingers in strawberry jam and gleefully painted the kitchen walls red like he had been possessed by a demon. (She had loved to tell that story. She never forgot to mention that she had been _this close_ to calling an exorcist.))

 

Steve touches the photo lightly with his fingertips to caress his favorite memento of the happiest day of his life. It’s been over seven years, but he’s still not over losing either of them. He suspects that he’s never going to be. He’s okay with it; he doesn’t want to be.

 

His phone alarm alerts him to the fact that it’s ten minutes to his ride arriving, and that he needs to get his head together.

 

He has his Captain America uniform under his loose trousers and jacket already, and he’s been ready to leave for the last half an hour. Still, he goes to double check that he has all of his props, water bottles and snacks in his duffel bag. Checking over his stuff, including his small frisbee-sized shield which has become the iconic part of his Captain America routine, helps him get back into professional mindstate.

  


\---

  


Soldier parks the black sedan in front of a brownstone building. (It likes the look of the building. There’s something familiar and homey about the building, even though it looks nothing like its cell.)

 

Soldier checks that its jacket sleeve and leather glove cover the metal arm before checking its hair and face on the rear-view mirror. The HYDRA design department had finally kicked out the moron stuck in 90’s who had made it wear its hair long for _‘aesthetic purposes’,_ and Soldier is really digging the new, shorter style. It’s not too sure about the black-and-red stud earrings, but at least those are less in the way than that goddamn hair that was always annoyingly on its face.

 

Soldier pushes few errand strands back into place until it’s satisfied with its look.

 

Its handler gave it clear mission parameters: undercover mission (identity: _Jack Hawkins, Lydia Howell’s cousin_ ); get a civilian stripper called ‘Grant Buchanan’/‘Captain America’ (six feet tall, fit, blonde) in the car and escort him to the cabin in the specified address; wait in the car to drive him back.

 

Soldier sits back in its seat, eyes sharp and taking in the street and passing cars, until a man fitting the description exits the building it has parked in front of. There’s a hint of garishly blue uniform under his brown leather jacket, and he’s carrying a duffel bag over his shoulder.

 

(The man’s hair is slicked back. Soldier’s fingers twitch at the sight of it and it has to push away the sudden image of running its fingers through the hair and messing it up.)

 

Soldier decides on a whim that its cover identity ‘Jack Hawkins’ is _definitely_ a flirty guy. And into blonde hunks. (It’s important to improvise believable details.)

 

Soldier lowers the car window and smiles like Jack Hawkins would, inviting and relaxed. “Captain, I presume? Looking for your ride?”

 

The man freezes still at Soldier’s words. His eyes snap to meet Soldier’s; wide, shocked, and showing alarming amount of recognition at the sight of it... considering that this _civilian_ should have never even _heard_ of Winter Soldier.

 

Soldier’s pulse quickens. It moves its hand subtly closer to the pistol strapped under the steering wheel. “Uh, is something wrong?” it asks lightly and prepares for a fight.

 

_“Bucky?”_

 

Soldier frowns. Its fingers rest at gun’s grip. “Sorry, what did you say?”

 

The initial shock is starting to leave the man’s face, but confusingly it’s not getting replaced by fear and terror of recognizing Winter Soldier, but with… hopeful even if confused smile. “Bucky. Your… your name.”

 

Soldier doesn’t like this. This mission was supposed to be easy and _fun_ for the change, with mostly driving while listening to music (it likes cars and music). Unexpected and confusing turns during missions usually lead to unplanned violence. “Sorry pal, you’re mistaking me for someone else. Never heard of ‘Bucky’.”

 

The man -- Captain -- shakes his head and steps closer. “Bucky, I’d know you _anywhere.”_

 

Soldier looks at him skeptically. “I think I’d remember you.” Then it tries to defuse the weirdly charged situation with a smile and a wink, but Captain remains tense, his eyes flickering all over Soldier, his gaze almost _hungry_ as he takes him in. (It’s kind of unnerving. Nobody has ever looked at Soldier like that and it’s making its skin prickle and feel warm. It almost wishes that they _were_ fighting and not in the middle of this bizarre conversation.) “Look, I don’t care about this ‘Bucky’. I promised for my cousin to pick up someone called ‘Captain America’, and I’m here to do that. You him or not?”

 

“Yes, but…” Captain makes an odd noise. “You look _exactly_ like Bucky. There’s no way you’re not him.”

 

“What a handsome, lucky bastard he must be.” Soldier grins like Jack Hawkins. (That also fails to make him smile in return. Dammit, it’s really off its emotional manipulation game today.) “Seriously, I don’t _care._ Just get in the car, and let’s go.”

 

Captain shakes his head; his jaw is set in a way that makes Soldier both want to roll its eyes up towards the sky and kiss that stubborn face--

 

Soldier kicks itself mentally. It’s getting too in the character and distracted by this weird civilian.

 

Captain doesn’t seem to be aware of Soldier’s internal turmoil. “I have photos of Bucky in my apartment. And I’ve kept all of his stuff. Can you get out of the car and come see them? See if you recognize anything?”

 

“No,” Soldier replies with a long drawl. “I’m here to take you to a party. Get in the car.”

 

“This is more important. Please. Just come see his stuff. It won’t take long.”

 

God the civilians can be _so_ confusing and frustrating. There’s _nothing_ more important than getting a mission done.

 

Soldier lowers its voice and eyebrows in a way that usually works on civilians: “Get in the car. _Now.”_

 

Captain is not easily intimidated. He steps forward, puts his hands on the top of the sedan and leans forward. It could be a threatening type of looming if not for the ridiculously earnest, pleading face. “Just five minutes.”

 

So Captain wants to be a pain in the ass and refuse to get in the car voluntarily? Fine, Soldier can tie him up and throw in the back of the sedan. It has rope and chains and handcuffs in the back.

 

It will be easy to grab Captain through the open window and squeeze his throat until he’ll pass out. Three minutes tops, and he’ll be tied up in the back of the car and they’ll be on their way to the destination.

 

Soldier checks that nobody is nearby, and is ready to proceed with that plan B when Captain tilts his head and says: _“Please?”_

  


\---

  


The man who claims he’s not Bucky sighs in exasperation just like Bucky used to. “Fine, _five minutes,”_ he groans like Bucky used to, and he glares at Steve just like Bucky always did when he was pissed off at himself for giving in.

 

Steve is _this close_ from having a meltdown on the sidewalk.

 

Instead of crumbling down, Steve takes a step back so Bucky -- because there’s _no way in hell_ this man is anyone but Bucky, no matter what he says -- can get out of the car. Steve smiles at him and says “Thank you” and the glare Bucky gives him in return almost makes Steve swoon. He’s missed that glare. He’s missed _everything_ so much.

 

As Bucky gets out of the car, Steve catalogues all the differences. Bucky’s skin has an unhealthy paleness to it that makes Steve’s heart twist, and the stud earrings are new (although not unpleasant sight). The way he moves is even more heart stuttering than Steve remembers -- and Bucky was already _so_ present in his body and athletic in a way that Steve never was, even before he had joined the special ops and came back from the missions as one efficient, trained, fluid movement setting Steve’s insides on fire.

 

Still, it’s undeniably Bucky who locks the car and then gives Steve unimpressed side-eyes. “Did you want to use your five minutes standing here and gawping, or what?”

  


\---

  


Captain’s apartment is full of boxes brimmed with this ‘Bucky’s’ stuff, as well as even more boxes labeled as ‘Ma’s’. It’s crowded, and there’s a high risk of towers of boxes toppling over if they start a fight here.

 

Reluctantly, Soldier follows Captain into the living room, where he takes a thick photo book off the shelf, flips through the pages until he finds what he’s looking for, and then offers the book for Soldier.

 

Soldier sighs and takes the book. It looks down, blinks, and blurts: “What the hell?”

 

Captain gives a startled laugh and steps closer. “Yeah. You see now?” he says eagerly.

 

Soldier frowns and looks at pictures, then starts to flip the pages, its eyes taking in the photo after photo of _itself._ “This is your... ‘Bucky’?”

 

Captain leans so close that his shoulder almost touches Soldier’s, and that distracts it from photos. Soldier is not detecting any hostility in his movements, so it doesn’t step away. (It’s actually nice; Soldier can feel the warmth of his body, and nobody ever gets this close to Soldier unless a) they are a target and Soldier is strangling them, or b) they are doctors or technicians working on Soldier’s body or arm.)

 

(Soldier leans in to close the inch between them so that their shoulders brush. Captain doesn’t jump or get startled. He’s the strangest civilian Soldier has ever met.)

 

“Yes,” Captain says quietly, and Soldier needs to rewind back from enjoying the tiny touch between them to remember what it had asked. Right. Photographs. Bucky. “Bucky Barnes. James Buchanan Barnes. We were friends since, gods, forever? Then we got together. He was my fiancé and we were going to get married... but then he disappeared.”

 

The resemblance between Soldier and Bucky is astonishing. Soldier continues looking through photos of it, of them both, and tries to not get distracted by Captain’s proximity again. The photos are making its head hurt, but for some reason it can’t stop looking at them.

 

(It hasn’t really ever thought in detail what the life must be for civilians, but god it’s getting jealous. It looks a lot better than its life, judging from these photos.)

 

“He disappeared?” Soldier asks, its eyes lingering on a photo of ‘Bucky’ and Steve kissing under a mistletoe.

 

“Yes. It’s been a little over seven years now. He was in special ops, and went missing during one of the missions.” Captain pauses and Soldier can see from the corner of its eye how Captain’s eyes are now focused on it. “You _are_ him. I don’t know how this is possible, but Bucky… Don’t you remember _any_ of this?” He gestures at the photo book.

 

Soldier doesn’t answer immediately.

 

No, it does not remember any of this, or being Bucky, but it’s undeniable that they share a face. Perhaps Soldier is Bucky’s clone? The bosses are always boasting about how Soldier is HYDRA’s greatest creation; and it knows that the R&D lab in the base has tinkered with the cloning technology -- the incident with the twenty runaway beagle puppies few months ago was memorable. (Soldier has been happy that it hasn’t been put through maintenance yet since. Catching the puppies and getting licked is a nice memory to have.)

 

Whether or not Soldier is Bucky’s clone, or this is just some freaky coincidence, Soldier knows two things:

 

  1. Apparently ‘Bucky’, voluntarily or involuntarily, abandoned his life and left Captain alone.
  2. Something in Soldier is screaming to take this opportunity. Something that is pushing down the ingrained orders and mission protocols and stomping on the part of it that is screaming _MISSION COMPROMISED_ and making it bump its shoulder again against Captain’s. Something that awoke in it when it got this photobook in its hands and is now _yearning_ to grab this life for it.



 

Soldier makes a decision.

 

 _(MISSION COMpromised, mission comp_ _romised, mission comp_ _romised…!)_

 

It bites its lip and makes some frowns as if it was trying to remember something elusive while it flips through the rest of the pages in the book. It looks at each picture for half a second, memorizing the contents of photos (very helpfully, there are dates and locations next to each picture), memorizing the many ways that ‘Bucky’ stands and laughs and smiles.

 

_Mission parameters updated: new cover identity ‘Bucky Barnes’/’James Buchanan Barnes’, Captain’s fiancé._

 

_ (...mission compromised, THIS IS NOT HOW MISSION PARAMETERS GET UPDATED, mis..on co..rom..ed..) _

 

There’s a closeup photo with only Captain in it, and Soldier’s face turns into a smile on its own at the sight of the happy, goofy smile on Captain’s face.

 

_Mission: ….make Captain smile like that again._

 

Captain’s voice is full of hope: “Do you remember that?”

 

Soldier looks at Captain, who’s tense and frowning, with a pleading, hopeful look in his eyes.

 

It looks down onto the photo and opens its mouth, fakes hesitancy, confusion -- like it imagines Bucky Barnes would show in this situation -- before it says: “Not clearly, but…”

 

It looks up and holy shit, _MISSION SUCCESSFUL,_ Captain is beaming at Soldier, his eyes so soft and warm and happy that Soldier feels like it’s blinded by the sight.

  


\---

  


“But you _do_ remember something?” Steve says, and the way that Bucky finally _smiles_... Steve is so relieved.

 

“I… We were in Disneyland, right?”

 

Steve nods and chuckles, “We were in Paris, and you _demanded_ to go there.” He flips to the next page where most of the pictures are of Bucky, in various states of excitement, making faces to Steve behind the camera, while they are in lines and eating ice cream. There’s one selfie of them kissing.

 

Bucky stares at all the photos like he’s mesmerized. Then he looks up to Steve -- in his black leather jacket, tight jeans and boots -- and with a small smile tugging at his lips says: “We should go there again. Maybe I’ll remember it then.”

 

Steve can’t stop himself from leaning in and kissing Bucky’s forehead. “As many times as you want.” So what if they had to take a loan for their tickets.

 

Steve realizes that Bucky has gone utterly still. He’s staring at Steve.

 

Steve takes a small step back. “Uh, sorry-- I shouldn’t have--”

 

 _“No!”_ Bucky’s eyes widen in panic. Then he seems to gather himself, and he says in a more contained voice: “Can you-- Please? Again?”

 

Something is very wrong. Bucky is staring at him and just barely visibly shaking from tension. Steve’s never seen him like that.

 

Carefully Steve leans in and kisses his forehead lightly again, and Bucky shudders and makes a small noise and closes his eyes. The photobook slips from his hands onto the floor.

  


\---

  


Captain is slowly combing through Soldier’s hair and it feels heavenly.

 

“Buck? Are you with me?”

 

Soldier’s head is spinning. It pushes down an onslaught of half-remembered memories. It has a mission. It has to be Bucky. It’ll sort out what happened later. “Yes,” it says and then imitates Bucky from the photos, and kisses Captain like Bucky.

 

Bad idea, bad idea. Its head is spinning now even more. But it feels too good.

 

Captain breaks the kiss too soon. “Uh, Bucky?”

 

“Yeah?” Soldier says and tries to kiss him again.

 

“I think we should talk first,” Captain says and allows for a short, chaste kiss, before he pulls away again.

 

Soldier knows that 1. Bucky liked to kiss Captain. 2. Bucky apparently demanded for things. 3. Bucky seemed to get his way a lot of the time, if those photos were to believed. So it says, “No, we can talk later.” Then it improvises, “I’ve missed you.”

 

“I’ve missed you too, Buck,” Captain says gently. “But I want to know where you have been and why you don’t remember me.”

 

**_(DO NOT REVEAL THE EXISTENCE OF HYDRA TO CIVILIANS. DO NOT TALK IF TORTURED OR INTERROGATED.)_ **

 

“We can talk later,” Soldier says. It’s clearly glitching because of the kisses; it has a hard time trying to think how to explain ‘Bucky’s’ disappearance. (Captain said something about Bucky going missing during the mission? Maybe Soldier could say it hit its head and got amnesia?) “I’ve missed you,” it tries again. “I don’t want to talk about it now.”

 

Captain frowns. “Bucky--” he starts, but gets interrupted by his phone’s alarm going off.

  


\---

  


“Sorry, just the alarm for the party,” Steve says as he turns off the alarm. “I’ll call them and let them know I’m not coming.”

 

It won’t be good for his business, but maybe he’ll be able to explain the situation.

 

He pauses as something occurs to him. “Bucky, you said your _cousin_ asked you to pick me up for the party?”

 

Bucky stares at him for a moment, and then nods. “Yes.”

 

Steve frowns. “Your family _knows_ you’re alive?”

 

Bucky licks his lips, but doesn’t answer.

 

“Bucky?” Steve prompts him. “But you didn’t know even your name?”

 

Bucky is blinking rapidly, his face flat and unnervingly expressionless, and Steve realizes that he’s panicking for some reason.

 

Steve takes a deep breath. Something is so, _so_ very wrong with Bucky (something beyond his weird amnesia and disappearance), and Steve needs to get to the bottom of it all. “Okay, I’ll call them to cancel, and then we can talk about it.”

  


\---

  


Steve can’t get through to ‘Jenny’ to cancel his gig. Oh well. Not on top of his priorities anyway.

 

Bucky keeps getting more and more anxious when Steve tries to probe him for answers about his ‘cousin’ or the past seven years.

 

Steve tries to call Becca next, but can’t get through to her either.

 

Steve rubs his temples. “Your cousin is at that party, right?”

 

Bucky -- who hasn’t even answered Steve about _which_ cousin it was who asked him to drive Steve to the party -- nods hesitantly.

 

“Alright. Let’s go there. We’ll take your car and I can drive us there.”

  


\---

  


It’s a long drive from Brooklyn to their destination. Steve spends the first half of it talking to a silent Bucky, who takes his sweet time to recover from whatever internal panic he had gone in Steve’s apartment.

 

To Steve’s relief, the last half of their drive Bucky is showing signs of himself again.

  


\---

  


When they arrive at the cabin, Steve turns the car off, but doesn’t make a move to leave his seat. “Bucky, before we go in…” He looks Bucky in the eye, takes a deep breath, and continues: “I don’t know what happened to you. I don’t know where you have been. But I promised to you that I’d be here for you ‘til the end of the line, and I meant that. No matter what happens here or what your cousin says, I love you.”

 

Bucky stares at him with wide eyes and doesn’t say anything.

 

Steve sighs. “Well, let’s get this over with--”

 

Bucky stops him from getting out of his seat by grabbing his wrist, almost painfully. “I love you too,” he says in a hurry, and then hesitantly adds, “Steve?”

  


\---

  


Lydia wakes up in a bathtub in an unfamiliar bathroom. It takes her few minutes to remember that she’s in Becca’s bachelorette party in the middle of nowhere.

 

She tastes vomit in her mouth. She’s dripping water. Her wet clothes cling uncomfortably to her skin. Her head is pounding.

 

She climbs up from the tub, slips on the slippery tiles and bangs her head at the sink.

 

She’s never going to drink again. Ugh.

 

The bathroom door opens and Jenny peeks inside. “Lydia? Everything okay?”

 

“Yeah,” she croaks from the floor.

 

Jenny comes inside, helps her up and wrinkles her nose. “I can’t believe you smell even after we showered you. But c’mon, you gotta see this! The stripper arrived, and you won’t believe this -- Becca’s lost brother is alive!”

 

“Becca’s brother is a stripper?”

 

“No!” Jenny helps her out of the bathroom and they get to the living room, where the music has been turned off and everyone is blabbering over each other. “The guy you called to get him is Bucky! You never met him before he went MIA seven years ago in the Army, or something like that.”

 

Soldier, a highly classified weapon of both mass destruction and precise subterfuge warfare, is on the couch and being kissed softly by a guy in a ridiculous costume. When they pull apart, it’s showing more emotion than Lydia has ever seen from it. It’s _smiling._ Becca is behind the couch crying happy tears on the phone and talking with someone.

 

Lydia realizes through her hangoverish haze that she has got herself in _a deep pile of shit._

 

She instinctively wants to scream _‘It’s malfunctioning! Get the chair ready before it snaps and kills us all!’,_ because the last time she saw Soldier _smiling_ was just before it snapped the neck of one of the technicians.

 

She has a sick feeling in her stomach that in this company, those words and the explanation for them would end up… not well for her.

 

Soldier doesn’t snap anyone’s neck this time. It lets the man in ridiculous costume kiss its forehead and wrap his hands around it. Soldier practically _beams_ before it buries its face in man’s shoulder. And not to savagely bite the man, but to... cuddle him.

 

Everyone _oohs_ and _aawhs_ and Lydia realizes that Clara is recording a video of it all with her phone.

 

Jenny squeals happily. “And the stripper is _Steve,_ Bucky’s fiancee, and they were the true love story of the century, oh gods I remember them when we were all kids, they were so cute. Steve was so heartbroken when Bucky disappeared! He organized Bucky’s funeral with Becca, and I bet he has been a right mess all these years! _But!_ Bucky _wasn’t_ killed, he had _amnesia,_ and now he’s back again! _Oh my god, Lydia, it’s so beautiful!_ This is like a real life soap opera. I can practically feel my teeth rotting away, it’s so cute and everyone’s so happy. I’m so happy you got drunk and almost ruined the party, Lydia!”

 

Lydia closes her eyes. She is _never, ever_ going to drink again… because Pierce is going to fucking kill her. (Lydia knows that the Soldier’s going rate in the black market would have been in seven or eight digits _at minimum_ if Hydra had ever decided to sell it. Not taking into the account the shitstorm that this all could cause...)

 

Actually. She doesn’t want to be sober when Pierce sends the Hydra’s hitmen after her, so fuck never drinking again -- she is going to drink _now,_ when she is still somehow alive.

 

“Jen, I need a drink. Please go get me the whiskey. Or rum, wine, I don’t care what. _Anything.”_

  
Jenny beams at her. “Any other day I would bring you _water_ and pour it on your head, you fucking drunkard, but… Anything for the true hero of the day!”

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> (Couple of snippets in the comment section from the scrapped version B of this story, where Soldier ended up kidnapping Steve after Steve refused to get into the car)


End file.
